The Handmaiden
by addielady
Summary: Adara has served as Briseis' handmaiden for as long as she can remember. However, her life is turned upside down when the Achaeans come and destroy her hometown, dragging her and Briseis into the midst of the Trojan War. Will Adara learn to deal with her new captors Achilles and Patroclus, and can she manage to survive the war? [Achilles/OC] [Patroclus/OC] [Achilles/Briseis]
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfic so PLEASE let me know what you think! I am 100% open to ideas and suggestions and help and anything. OH and of course, I own none of these characters except for Adara but you can always use her if you want:) The genius Homer came up with these beautiful characters.

SHORT plot summary: Adara has served as Briseis' handmaiden for as long as she can remember. However, her life is turned upside down when the Achaeans come and destroy her hometown, dragging her and Briseis into the midst of the Trojan War. Will Adara learn to deal with her new captors Achilles and Patroclus and can she manage to survive the war with her life?

Chapter 1

They came at night after all of the party had ended.

She and Briseis had just returned from the feast, their heads light with wine and their hearts hammering away in their chest. Giggles filled the bed chambers as Adara helped her lady undress, the golden fabrics falling to the floor with soft whooshes. Sitting on a trunk at the end of her bed, Briseis had leaned against Adana, her bare skin dotted with goose bumps and her cheeks flushed a rosy red. She smiled as Briseis rambled on about the night they had just had.

"It was lovely, was it not, Adara?" Briseis sighed wistfully, her green eyes lost in thought about the feast on a couple hours previous.

"Yes, my lady," Adara replied quietly, untying Briseis' dark hair from its complicated up-do. "Your husband seemed quite pleased; the men present were quiet taken with you." At this, the dark haired girl waved an airy hand as if to say, _I don't care_.

"As if I cared, Adara. They are just as horrid as my husband. If I was not pretty, Mynes would never have sought my hand in marriage," she huffed, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, but Adara knew that she was bursting with pride. _It's true_, Adara thought. Briseis was not smart or cunning or even funny, but she was more beautiful than all of the women in Lyrnessus; a fact that she never forgot. However, Adara smiled and patted the Queen's hair.

"That is not true, Lady Briseis, your husband loves you very much," Adara murmured, and then before the Queen could argue, she changed the subject. "The dance tonight was lovely."

"Yes, it was, wasn't it," the lady mused, her green eyes once again fading into memory. "Who was that man you danced with, Adara?" Briseis asked only a moment later, the corners of her mouth turning up in a sly grin. Blushing deeply, Adara once again busied herself with Briseis' hair. As the Queen waited for her reply, there came a crash from a distant part of the castle.

"Ah, that will be the cook. Zeus knows he had enough drink tonight for five men," Briseis grumbled, and then glancing at Adara in the mirror, she again asked her who she had danced with that night.

"His name is, Malthus. He is a captain of the guard," Adara whispered quietly. Blushing deeply again, Adara lost herself in reverie over the strong young man with raven colored hair and eyes like chestnuts. As the Queen's handmaiden, she was not supposed to participate in the festivities. It was her job to await her Lady until she was ready to go or unless she was required to retrieve something for her. But then Malthus had approached and asked her for a dance and she had forgotten all about her duties. Adara smiled slightly, remembering how the firelight had seemed to dance in his eyes and the strong musky scent that radiated off of him. Suddenly, there was a crash from the castle once more, this time closer, and Adara was pulled back to the present. Glancing in the mirror, she saw Briseis staring at her.

"He was very handsome, Adara," the Queen said gently, taking her hand and giving it a slight squeeze. Adana felt her cheeks burn as blood rushed to her face.

"It's no matter," she stated, her tone becoming matter of fact, stooping to pick up Briseis' dress and fold it. Yet another crash sounded throughout the castle and the Queen rolled her eyes.

"You know, Adara, you have every right to be happy," Briseis' said, rolling her eyes as Adara helped her put her robe on.

"My duty is to you, my lady," she murmured deftly, tying the sash around Briseis' narrow waist. Feeling a pair of hands come to rest on her shoulders, Adana looked up into the glowing green eyes of Briseis.

"Do you love him?" She demanded. Adara shrugged, shocked by the suddenness of the question. It was true, she thought him handsome and kind, but did she love him? _It does not matter. I cannot marry and so I should do my best to forget about him_.

"Oh you do!" The young queen exclaimed, sweeping Adara up in her arms and spinning her around in a circle. "Don't be upset, every girl should love someone."

"And what about the law? I am forbidden to-"

"Forget about the law. I am Queen, and if you want to get married I will ensure that it happens," she said, positively beaming with happiness for her young handmaiden. "I will talk to Mynes in the morn," she said, tossing herself onto the bed, her body stiff with wine. Adara felt her face break out into a smile as she thought about her captain of the guard. Would he want to marry also? _It isn't like he will have much choice is the Queen requests it._ Shoving aside these dark thoughts, Adara instead focused on the few words they had shared a couple days before…

They stood in the kitchen, both of them waiting for the bread to finishing cooking so that they might eat it while it was fresh. Adara had been warming herself by the fire when he spoke to her.

"What sends you to the kitchens, Adara?" Malthus had asked, coming to stand next to her, his bronze armor glowing with firelight. Surprised by his outgoing nature and by the fact that he had known her name, Adara's gaze had fallen to the floor.

"Excuse me sir, but I am not acquainted with your name," she had replied, her voice strained. Men never spoke to her, fearing the what the Queen would say. Laughing at her comment, Malthus had stepped closer.

"My name is Malthus. I am a captain of the guard." At this statement, Adara had sighed with relief. They were of equal social class and so able to speak to each other freely.

"You know, there are rumors that the handmaiden of the Queen is more beautiful than her royal highness herself," he had whispered, his brown eyes glancing around so that no one would hear his treacherous words. Her breath caught in her throat and her mind froze.

"Those are dangerous words Captain of the Guard," she had answered, her body cold even with the proximity of the fire.

"Do not worry, I favor my position too much to risk someone hearing such a thing," he said cheerfully, stepping back. Adara let out a sigh of relief and for the first time turned to glance up at the handsome young man. She remembered how her heart had stopped at his beauty and how her lips had involuntarily curled into a smile.

"There are also rumors of the captain of the guard," she had teased, stepping away from the fire to wander through the tables.

"Oh really?" Malthus asked, raising an eyebrow and turning to watch her.

"Yes, they say he does not compete in wrestling matches because he is worried he will lose his teeth and his hair will be ripped out," she said, smirking at him. Malthus had looked back at her aghast, and then much to her surprise, pulled back his gums to reveal an empty space where his last molar should have been.

"I guess they weren't entirely wrong were they," he said blushing, covering the spot where his tooth was missing. Suddenly, Adara heard her named called from the hallway. Giving the captain a slight bow, she had turned to leave when his hand closed on her wrist.

"You know," he whispered, his breath warm on the side of her face. "The rumors they say about you are not false either. Best be careful the Queen never recognizes your true beauty." And with that he had released her…

Adara was pulled from her memory as a scream came from the hall followed by several thuds and the banging sound of metal hitting metal. Getting to her feet, Adara felt her heart pick up speed and her breath become short and uneven. She moved with unsteady steps to stand in front of Briseis who was still laying on her bed as if she could hear nothing. Blood pounding in her ears, she almost didn't hear the footsteps right before the door slammed open.

"Adara?" A deep, shaking voice called out.

"Malthus!" She said, throwing herself into the waiting arms of the dark hair guard. However, as she melted into his grasp, she realized that he was coated in a sticky substance. Pulling back, she glanced down to see that her gown was ruined; it was covered in blood.

Trying took keep from retching, Adara breathed in through her mouth so she would not have to smell bitter, metallic smell that clung to Malthus.

"Adara, we need to go. You and the Queen are not safe here anymore. There are strange men here, from Troy we think," he said, grabbing her wrist firmly and beginning to pull her towards the back entrance.

However, before they could take another step Adara felt Malthus' grip on her arm loosen and then he slipped away completely, a moment later landing with a thud on the floor—three arrows protruded from his back. Freezing, Adara felt adrenaline overtaking her systems and force her to forget her grief and react. Turning to face the door, she watched as several soldiers piled through the door, their black armor foreign and alarming to her. One of the men carried a large ashen bow, an arrow notched and pointed at her. Behind her, Adara could here Briseis sitting up on the bed, her movements hardly making a sound.

The soldiers wasted no time, taking to the trunks and pots and chests, opening and breaking and stealing anything of value. Adara stood in the middle of the swirling chaos, watching as her world crumbled around her. As the soldiers ransacked the Queen's chambers, Adara watched as the doors opened again and a young man most certainly her age entered, his black armor crimson with blood and his helmet tucked under his arm. She felt as if her eyes were drawn to his sparkling blond hair which stood out in contrast to the typical black haired Achaeans. He surveyed the organized destruction, his blue eyes scanning the room until they can to rest on Adara and then Briseis, his eye brows shooting up. Calling to one of the soldiers, Adara heard the young man shout an order and then watched as the soldier scurried down the hall.

Turning back to look at her, Adara shivered as the blonde man approached her, his sandals leaving bloody footprints on the tile. Coming to halt before her, Adara willed herself to look into his ocean blue eyes, her body shaking with fear.

"Are you the Queen that Mynes attempted to trade for the safety of the kingdom, or is she?" The young man asked, nodding his head to Briseis.

"I am," Adara blurted out before she could stop herself. Glancing over her shoulder at Briseis she stared at the Queen, willing her to be silent. _Let me protect you. Let them kill me instead_ she pleaded with her eyes, but the Queen would have none of it.

"Adara I will not let you risk yourself for me," she whispered, and then turning to face the young soldier, "I am the Queen, wife of King Mynes," Briseis said regally, getting to her feet and glaring at the young soldier with hate in her eyes.

"King Mynes is dead," a loud voice said, echoing through the room. Silence fell as all faces turned to look at the front of the bedchambers.

Standing just inside the room was the most beautiful man Adara had ever seen. His blood soaked blond hair still glistened as if the sun was shining on it even though it was nearing midnight. Tanned skin was pulled taught over thick muscles full rosy lips curled down in a grimace. Adara saw that he was bleeding from two cuts on his upper arm, but the man seemed not to notice them.

"He died with all the honors of a king," he said quietly, _almost gently_, to Briseis. Adara watched the queen receive this news, her face barely flickering. She had never loved Mynes.

"Why have you come to destroy my city?" Briseis demanded of the soldier.

"We needed your city, or, we needed what your city had to offer," the great man replied.

"May I speak with you? I would like to discuss the safety of the woman and children that live here," Briseis began, but the beautiful man interrupted her.

"I am afraid there is no use." At this, Briseis stormed over to him, but Adara lost interest as the soldiers around her returned to pillaging.

Turning to look at the floor, Adara's eyes landed on Malthus' body. Suddenly she felt drained as a wave of grief consumed her. As if time had slowed, she came to kneel beside his body, her hazel eyes blurring with tears. Malthus was gone—her Malthus. She could hear Briseis' words from what felt like years ago. _You have every right to be happy_. Reaching out with a hesitant hand, Adara tucked a lock of Malthus' raven hair behind his ear, her tears falling shamelessly onto the floor and mingling with the blood. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his forehead before sending silent prayer to the gods. _How could she insure that he got a proper burial_? Without the rites, he would never reach the Underworld. Without the rites, we would be cursed to remain on this earth forever; gone but unable to move on.

Suddenly, she felt an arm slide roughly around her waist. Jerked to her feet, Adara struggled against the tight grip of one of the soldiers.

"Thought we forgot about you? No, no," a sinister voice chuckled. Adara felt her back slam against a wall and a pair of hungry hands grope at her body. She screamed and thrashed under the man's grip, only causing him to press her hard against the hard stone wall.

And then, the man just fell away and Adara felt herself slump to the floor. Panting, a gentle sent of hands grabbed her forearms and pulled her to her feet. In a moment of confusion, Adara mistook the battle worn palms for Malthus', but them remembering his fate, she jerked away form who ever held her now. However, the man did not let go and so Adara fell limp in his grasp once more. Looking up, she saw the beautiful blond man. _The one that killed the king_ she thought venomously.

"It is time to go," he said so gently that Adara's eyes widened in shock. However, her eyes returned once more to Malthus' dead body and she began to struggle.

"Malthus…" she moaned, her body sore and broken with grief. The blond man glanced at the body. "Bury him. Promise me, you will… bury…" Adara felt herself losing conscience as the strong arms scooped her up off of the floor.

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was a pair of blue eyes the color of summer and a strong voice saying, "Patroclus, make sure that body is buried."


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, I own none of these characters: they belong to the mighty and wonderful Homer without whom I would not be writing this fanfic. Hope you enjoy the next chapter, as always, feel free to let me know any of the three Cs: comments, concerns, or cravings! Love you guys!

Chapter 2

Adara awoke to rocking. The motion was soothing, a for a moment, Adara lay still, letting her breath become even and her eyes remained closed. The movement reminded her of her mother who once rocked her to sleep every night before she had gone to work for Briseis.

Rolling onto her side, Adara opened her eyes to the dark world of a ship's underbelly. She was in a room so small and cramped she wondered how they had managed to fit the cot she lay on inside it. Rubbing her eyes and sitting up, she eyed the room, realizing that she must be either in the front or the back of a long wooden ship based off the odd curve to the wall.

Confused as to where she was, Adara turned her head to find the young, blond soldier from the night before leaning against the wall asleep.

_The night before_. Suddenly a wave of memories returned to her. Images of the destroyed royal chambers and bloody floors and Malthus filled her mind. _Malthus_. Tears stung at her eyes just thinking the name but Adara held them back. _He died a warrior's death, you should be proud of him_. And she was, but never before had she realized how cold death could be.

As she sat on the cot, unsure of what to do, Adara once again glanced over at the young man asleep against the wall. Even in the dark, she could easily see his beauty. He looked very much like the other blond warrior from the night before, but his hair did not shine like sunlight and his body was smaller. His face was delicate, with high cheekbones and pale, narrow lips parted in his sleep. Tendrils of long blond hair swooped down in his face and grazed his shoulders; the top half of his hair was pulled back into a braid. He no longer wore the bloody armor of the night before and was instead wrapped in a blue robe that was tied around his hips, exposing his whole chest and ending just above the ankles. A smudge of blood ran across his collarbone and his forehead, dried and flaking on his skin.

While Adara scanned the young man, she tried to find it in herself to hate him. _He destroyed your home. He killed your soldiers. His people killed Malthus!_ But she knew it was not this boy's fault. He had been following orders most likely given to them from King Agamemnon himself.

Adara knew all about the Trojan War. Lyrnessus had been one of the first cities notified of the war after it began. The Achaeans had been in Troy for years, fighting the horsemen on the beaches with neither side winning the upper hand. As their supplies ran low, they were forced to pillage local town for their goods. For a time Lyrnessus had been safe and had received refugees from towns pillaged by the Achaeans, but years had passed and all people knew that their city was next in line if the Greeks did not win the war soon. Some people had chosen to run, but most had stayed, hoping that the war would end before it came to Lynessus. _Maybe that is why I cannot hate this boy_, she thought_, because we had a chance to flee and we did not take it_.

Suddenly, the boy gave a start and his head snapped up, his eyes wide and his body tense. Seeing Adara staring at him, her hazel eyes filled with fear, he relaxed and leaned his head against the wooden hull of the ship.

"So you are the handmaiden yes? To the Queen?" He asked her. Adara said nothing, eyeing the boy suspiciously. She did not hate him, but she did not trust him either and she certainly did not intend to tell him anything about herself. Almost as if he read her mind, the boy laughed. The sound fell lightly on Adara's ears like harp song or singing. "Do not tell me you have lost your voice since last night? I do not think I have ever heard a girl scream so loudly," he chuckled. Adara shrugged.

"Come now, I know you can speak to me. You were quiet willing to when it gave you the chance to save your Queen. A very brave thing to do I might add," he continued, almost as if he was talking to himself. Adara watched him, his face full of expressions and emotions. She felt a question burning inside her until she could hold it in no longer. Going against her better judgment, she spoke.

"Did you bury him?" She demanded, and then growing shy once more and asking more quietly, "Malthus I mean. Did you bury him?" The young soldier eyed her curiously.

"Yes. All of your dead were buried with the proper rites known to us," he replied gently. Surprised, she felt her mouth fall open. At the same time, Adara felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Malthus would now be able to rest in peace. She sent a quick prayer to Zeus in thanks for his works.

"Thank you," she whispered so quietly Adara wasn't sure if she had spoken the words or thought them.

"No, do not thank me, thank Achilles. It was his orders," the blond said, getting to his feet.

"Who?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I forget you do not know us. I am Patroclus," he said with a small smile, offering her his hand to pull her to her feet. She took it, letting go the moment she felt stable on her feet. "Achilles is our leader. We look very similar people say; he too is blond with blue eyes." And then Adara remembered the beautiful man from the Queens chambers and she could feel her heart pick up speed.

"In fact, I am supposed to take you to him as soon as you are awake," Patroclus instructed. "Follow me?" Adara trailed behind the soldier through the door, walking unsteadily through several rows of hammocks to a ladder. Patroclus climbed first, offering her his hand, which she refused.

The sunlight was a blinding white as Adara reached the top of the ladder, her eyes unable to handle the contrast from the darkness of the ship. Fresh air filled her lungs and the sounds of men laughing clanged in her ears. Squinting, she saw full sails and a motley crew of men lounging about on benches with bread and wineskins. They were all dressed similarly to Patroclus with blue robes tied around their waists and long hair pulled half back in a braid. Patroclus ignored the men and instead led her down the elevated centre aisle to the rear of the ship were a golden haired man stood on a platform with his arms behind his back.

"Achilles," Patroclus called out in greeting, waving to the beautiful man and climbing up onto the platform beside him. The captain looked at Patroclus smiling warmly at him before glancing at Adara. She felt herself shiver involuntarily under his shrewd gaze, praying that she lived up to whatever expectation he wanted her to meet.

Right away she could see how Achilles and Patroclus looked alike. They were both tall with thick blond hair worn in the same style and tough, tanned skin—but that is where the similarities ended. While Patroclus' eyes were a calm, gentle blue like a freshwater lake or the ocean in the morning, Achilles eyes were like a tempest sparking with some internal anger; they reminded her of a violent summer thunderstorm. His face was not delicate like Patroclus' and instead his jaw was set in a hard line bordered by full, rosy lips pulled tight in a grimace. His arms were folded across a thick muscular chest and muscles were taught under heavily scarred skin. Adara noticed that his wounds from the night before had not been tended to too were still bleeding.

"What is your name?" Achilles asked her in a voice so gentle Adara wondered if Patroclus had said it for him and the great warrior had just moved his mouth.

"Adara"

"Adara," he repeated as if testing the name on his own tongue to see if he liked the way it tasted. However, her name seemed to pass and Achilles continued. "Adara, my name is Achilles. I am the leader of the Myrmidons and a warrior under King Agamemnon of Greece." He spoke calmly with deep, vibrating tones. "Do you know of our quest in Troy?"

"Yes," she whispered, fer voice trembling with fear. Achilles eyes softened at her as she spoke and Adara felt herself consumed with wonder once more. _How is it that such a horrible man can be so kind_ she mused.

"Then you should know you need not fear me or my Myrmidons. However, when we arrive at Troy in two days time, things will be different," he said, his voice calm and reassuring even though the news he was giving her was not pleasant. "If I had my wish, you and your Queen would never have left Lyrnessus." Adara could not help but wonder if she would have been killed with the rest of her people or if she would have been set free. "But it is not my decision and so you have to return with me."

"Sir, might you tell me what has become of my lady?" She asked quietly.

"The Queen Briseis is asleep in my chambers," Achilles replied coolly. Adara felt her face grow hot and her eyes widen. Seeing her reaction, the warrior smiled.

"No, she is just asleep. I did not force your Queen into any such activities nor do I plan to," he said almost jovially. Adara relaxed and nodded her head to the man in thanks. Silence fell and Patroclus turned to her; clearly Achilles was done with her. Adara didn't mind that their short conversation had come to an end. Although the great warrior had been very kind to her, she couldn't help but notice the cold air he seemed to emit as if this world was a burden to him.

Jumping off the platform, Patroclus came to stand next to Adara, beaming at her. Adara wasn't sure if she liked the smiling boy yet, but she at least found it in herself to relax while around him.

"If you would like, I can get you a new robe," he offered. Glancing down at her dress, Adara saw the blood that soaked through the front of it and grimaced in disgust. She nodded to him after a moment and the boy scampered down into the underbelly of the ship, returning moments later with a bundle of blue fabrics. Handing it to her, Patroclus made no offer to take her below to change. Hey eyes widening once more in alarm, Adara glared at the boy. Suddenly understanding, he motioned her towards the stairs and she rushed down into the dark, safety of the ship's stomach to change.

The clothes he gave her were strange under her hand. They were light and smooth, a long blue skirt that tied at her hips and a short shirt of the same color and material with a deep v neckline. Wind tickled stomach at the crack between her skirt and shirt and caused the folds of the skirt to billow in the breeze. Adara had never felt so exposed in her life, but this was not time to argue and so steeling herself for any looks she might receive, Adara climbed the stairs once more and approached Patroclus.

"Thank you," she whispered again, her face burning with shame at the attire she wore. Patroclus seemed to understand what she was thinking.

"There is no need to be ashamed at these clothes. All of the women at camp will be dressed similarly. The blue signifies you as a Myrmidon," he said, reaching out with his hand to finger the sleeve of her shirt. "Once we reach Troy, this is the safest color any woman can wear."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"The women at camp wear colors based off of who their captor is," he said. Adara felt herself shiver at the word captor. _So we are to be slaves_ she thought grimly, frowning just slightly. "The women of Agamemnon wear gold, Odysseus' green, and Achilles' blue. Of course there are hundreds of others, but soon enough you will learn them all." Patroclus dropped his hand from her sleeve. "The other men at camp are not like the Myrmidons. They are brutal, and often cruel. They take different women every night if they so desire," he said angrily as if the words were sour on his tongue. Adara closed her eyes; remembering the rough hands of the man the night before and how Achilles had beaten him away. "But no one will touch you if you are wearing Achilles' colors. You are his property now, and no one would risk hurting anything that belongs to him," he finished cheerfully, as if the news that she was now a slave was a thing she should be thankful for.

Turning to look away from the young man, Adara looked straight into the wind, her caramel colored waves blowing in the breeze and her eyes watering from the  
reflections of the sunlight on the water. Forgetting Patroclus and Achilles, she made her way down the center aisle of the ship to the bow, ignoring a whistle or two from the drunken Myrmidons. She heard footsteps following her, but she paid them no mind as she leaned against the rail in order to look out across the water.

Patroclus came to stand next to her, leaning against the rail and glancing over at her now and again. She could see the faint outline of the shore off to her right but there were no other ships and no other sounds that that of the waves lapping against the boat.

She stood watching the waves for some time, ignoring the hunger that gnawed at her insides and the exhaustion that seeped through her limbs. Finally she was awoken from her stupor when there was a shout from behind her.

"Patroclus," Achilles called, waving him over good naturedly with his uninjured arm. They young man smiled at Adara to follow him before making his way once more the rear of the ship in order to listen to his leader.

"Aeson has challenged you do a match," he grinned madly, nodding to a black maned man a good five inches taller than the already massive Patroclus. Smiling happily back at Achilles, her young guard turned and scampered off, leaving Adara alone with Achilles.

"What is about to happen?" she asked, confused. Achilles laughed, and then turning to look at her with his summer blue eyes informed her:

"They are going to fight."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Adara felt her heart begin to thud in her chest and her breath quicken. _Fight? Was someone going to die? _Images of Malthus' body falling onto the cold stone floor filled her mind and Adara shuddered, attempting to rid her thoughts of such horrible memories.

Noticing her discomfort after a moment, Achilles smiled down at her gently.

"Do not worry, they do not fight to hurt each other, it is a fight to test each other's skill," he said soothingly, laying a light but worn hand on her shoulder. Adara stiffened with surprise, heat rising to her face and her eyes locking on the mast of the ship so that she would not have to look at the great man beside her. Once again realizing her uneasiness, Achilles dropped his hand from her shoulder, shaking his head a bit in amusement.

Patroclus emerged from below deck minutes later, dressed in his full armor with his helmet stowed under his arm. A long sword bounced against his thigh and he held a spear in his hand. Adara couldn't help but notice the broad smile on his young face and the way his blond hair glistened against his black armor.

Aeson leaned against the rail of the ship, his armor brown and heavily scratched. His sword was in his hand and his spear leaned against the wall next to him. He wore an unpleasant smirk that ran askew because of the long scar running down his cheek and his arms were crossed in a confident manner.

_Is this how men prove themselves in Greece,_ Adara wondered, disgusted by the idea. In Lyrnessus men wrestled when they wanted to challenge each other. It's true that some men lost teeth and there were occasionally broken bones, but it seemed less _barbaric_ to her than sword fighting. _At least when two men wrestle, it is completely based on skill, not whose sword is sharper_.

When it became clear that both men were ready to fight, Achilles called for silence.

"Patroclus and Aeson, may I speak with you two. We need to discuss rules," he said, beckoning to them with his uninjured arm. The two men quickly stepped up onto the back platform of the ship. Unsure of what to do, Adara remained where she was next to Achilles.

"I want no bloodshed, is that understood," he growled. She noticed that his eyes lingered on the monster like Aeson for a moment before moving on. "I cannot risk either of you getting hurt before we return to Troy."

"Of course, Achilles," Aeson said indifferently as if these rules were simple and beneath him.

"No spears, I do not want either of you losing your weapons before we arrive back home," he instructed. Although he sounded grim, Adara noticed that Achilles' summer blue eyes were twinkling with excitement.

"Will you call the match?" Patroclus asked, absentmindedly running his finger across the blade of his sword. The great blond warrior nodded his head in a silent reply and then pointed them towards the center of the ship._ I can't watch this_. _I'm going to be sick._ Clutching her stomach, Adara backed up until she was leaning against the rail. One again noticing her uneasiness, Achilles turned to face her.

"Do not be afraid, Adara, they will not hurt each other," he said, comfortingly, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. Shuddering under his touch, Adara closed her eyes; the nauseous feeling in her stomach growing by the second.

"Can you insure that they will not be hurt, Achilles?" she asked, her voice small and trembling, but the anger behind her words was still audible.

"No, I cannot. There is little that I can truly control," he said. Adara felt him staring at her but she kept her eyes closed. She did not like the smell of blood that seemed to cling to him nor was she reassured by his touch. "Adara, you should watch. You will need to grow accustomed to these kinds of things, we are headed towards a war."

Sighing slightly, she opened her eyes to watch the two men square off in front of her. Achilles dropped his arm from her shoulders and stepped forward.

"Gentlemen, let us begin," he said, throwing his arms wide and smiling.

Aeson and Patroclus began to circle, legs bent so that they moved with catlike grace. Both men held their swords in their right hands, their left arms held out to balance themselves as they moved. Suddenly Aeson lunged, feigning right and then diving left, bringing his sword around him to collide with Patroclus' shield. There was a tremendous crash as sword and shield connected and then the two men were circling again as if the attack had never happened. Jeers echoed from the men and a few clapped, their eyes wild with amusement.

Patroclus made the next move. He charged straight at the monster-like Aeson, his sword held high above his head as a great bellow came from him. At the last minute he leapt into the air, his feet moving as if he was running on the wind, and brought his sword down with all his might onto his opponent. Aeson stumbled backwards, just managing to duck behind his bronze shield. Patroclus' furious attack continued. Repeatedly the young man brought his sword down on Aeson's shield. Deafening bangs thudded against Adara's ears reminding her of the blacksmith in Lyrnessus.

Suddenly Aeson, who had been giving up ground under Patroclus' charge, punched out with his shield arm. The move caught Patroclus square in the chest and sent him flying backwards. Adara heard him groan as he hit the deck and slid back, his sword skidding out of his hand. Aeson lost no time in regaining his stance and then charged.

Adara was afraid to look, but she couldn't take her gaze away from the fight. _Get up, Patroclus_ she found herself thinking. Patroclus scrambled backwards on all fours towards his sword, but realizing he was not going to reach his weapon before Aeson reached him, he sprung to his feet instead. Using the same move that had knocked him to the ground, Patroclus swung at Aeson with his shield. Unfortunately, the huge man saw it coming at easy jumped back to avoid the blow. Left completely open and unprotected, Adara saw Patroclus' eyes widen with fear.

Laughing with maniacal glee, Aeson charged the young man again. He brought his sword down repeatedly, forcing Patroclus to jump and dodge and leap out of the way. Finally managing to bring his shield back into position, Patroclus turned and ran for his sword. Aeson followed eagerly.

Grabbing his sword just as Aeson reached him, Patroclus jumped out of the way just as his opponent brought his sword down from above his head onto the spot where Patroclus had stood moments before. There was a thud as Aeson's sword stuck in the wooden deck. _Patroclus would have been sliced in two_. _He wasn't going to stop_ Adara realized with shock and disgust.

Taking his advantage, Patroclus kicked Aeson to the ground while the monster-like man was attempting to remove his weapon from the wood. He hit the deck with a bang, his head thudding against the floor with a crack. Laughter erupted from the rest of the Myrmidons as Aeson slowly sat up. His eyes were black with fury and his movements stiff as he attempted to control his emotions. Sweat rolled down both the men's faces as they began to circle again, their movements more calculated and nervous this time.

The battle began again as Aeson charged Patroclus. They spun and danced around each other, clashes and slices sounding throughout the air. They took turns jabbing and swinging for each other, their dance becoming more furious with each passing minute. Adara watched with amazement as their swords flashed in the sun, their bodies moving in wild movements to dodge and leap. Occasionally one man would groan when their opponent landed a blow with the flat of their sword on their back or their shield.

Suddenly there was a series of quick blows and Adara and the rest of the men watched as Aeson's sword went flying. Again, Adara noted the black fury glowing in the monster-like man's eyes as he turned to look at the young blond soldier. Patroclus, who was waiting for his opponent to retrieve his sword, never saw the attack coming.

Instead of going to get his disarmed weapon, Aeson used his shield to hit Patroclus across the face. There was a bang as Patroclus went flying, his shield and sword both lost to him. He hit the deck with a sickening crunch and Adara could feel her heart pounding in her throat. And then she saw the blood. A deep, crimson gash ran along Patroclus' cheekbone pooling with blood. It dripped down his face and onto the deck where in began to mix with his sweaty, blond hair. There was silence for just a moment as the men stared at Patroclus, and then Achilles reacted.

Jumping down onto the deck from the back platform, he began to approach Aeson. He moved so casually that one would almost think that he was preparing to hug the man. However, Adara could see how tense his back muscles were and she gulped, trying to keep down the nauseous feeling that was rising up within her.

"Aeson, you fought well," Achilles chimed smoothly, beginning to circle the huge man. Aeson stood still, as if frozen in place. "However, I think you have forgotten something." There was a deadly silence.

"My Lord?" Aeson asked, his voice quaking.

"Do not play dumb," Achilles fumed, his voice finally braking and the anger he had been withholding finally coloring his voice. "I gave you one rule, Aeson. No bloodshed. Does that look like no bloodshed to you?" he demanded, pointing an accusing finger towards Patroclus. Aeson shook his head, refusing to take his eyes of the fuming warrior.

"I should have you hung. You attacked an unsuspecting man. Patroclus was giving you the opportunity to regain your arms and instead you brutally attacked him." Suddenly Achilles stopped circling Aeson and ran at the man. His fist connected with Aeson's face and sent to man flying. When he had stopped rolling across the deck, Achilles spoke again, this time to the rest of his Myrmidons. "Get that creature out of my sight."

There was a scrambling sound and several men lifted the limp Aeson and carried him down the aisle and down the ladder into the dark underbelly of the ship. Finally turning to face Patroclus, Achilles approached his friend; the Myrmidons parted to that he could move through them with ease. Adara approached the small circle around the limp body of Patroclus.

"How are you?" Achilles murmured, all the previous venom in his voice gone as he kneeled beside his young counterpart. In reply Patroclus groaned, blood running in thick streams across his face.

"Iatrokles, take two men with you and go get cloth, water, and whatever herbs you can find. This will need stitching most certainly," Achilles assessed. Adara rolled her eyes at this statement. _Of course he needs stitches. If you hadn't let him fight he wouldn't be in this situation now. _She felt an unreasonable fury build up inside her as she stared down at Patroclus and Achilles. The rest of the men had gone below, whether from fear or boredom Adara did not care, leaving the three of them alone.

"You will be alright soon, my friend," he said soothingly, running a gentle hand across Patroclus' forehead. The men returned later with herbs and cloth and a needle and thread and gave them to Achilles.

Adara watched in amazement as Achilles set to work tearing leaves from several nameless plants and setting them in piles next to himself.

"Make yourself useful," he said, tossing her one of the cloths. Adara felt the soft cotton material hit her face and she stiffened. _I have to clean up the blood?_ She felt faint at the thought and gripped the cloth tightly between her hands. Moving as if in slow motion, Adara knelt down beside Patroclus' face, her heart pounding loudly in her ears and her breathing uneven and labored. _There is so much blood_ was all she could think as she looked down at his ashen face. Breathing in and out several times, Adara mustered all of the courage she had and began to dab at his face. He groaned under her touch but she kept moving. Within what felt like seconds, the entire rag was red and Adara reached to grab another, but Achilles stopped her.

"That is enough. Thank you, Adara," he said quietly, still examining Patroclus' wound. Now that the cut was less bloody, Adara was able to tell that it was deep and needed treatment. Wasting no time, Achilles took the needle and thread and began to stitch up his friend's cheek. Adara was forced to look away while this happened with the fear that she might throw up if she looked at the needle moving in and out of Patroclus' flesh. When at last Adara saw Achilles lean back, she turned to look at Patroclus once more.

The wound was neatly stitched shut, blood still leaking from under the stitches in minuscule amounts. Staring in amazement at Achilles for several moments, Adara forced herself to look away from the great warrior. _How is it that such a brutal man can heal someone? He is as gentle as a nursing mother, yet also cruel like a tempest. _Full of wonder, Adara watched Achilles press leaves to the cut and wrap the wound with clean strips of cloth. Scooping to pick up Patroclus, Achilles gripped his friend under the knees and shoulders, lifting him as if he were only a sack of apples and not a fully grown man.

"Come with me," he instructed Adara, leading the way across the ship and down the ladder. Ignoring the men who lay silently in their hammocks, Achilles made his way to the room where Adara had awoken that morning. He lay Patroclus on the cot and then got to his feet.

"I ask that you stay here and watch him. I will come around sunset to rebind his wound. One of the men will bring you bread and water to feed him with. Can you do this for me?" he asked, his summer eyes penetrating and curious. Nodding, she mumbled a quiet yes and then he left her alone with the ashen faced young man.

Staring at the closed door through which Achilles had just left, Adara jumped a little at the sound of a weak and trembling voice.

"Did I win? Adara?" Patroclus murmured. Confused, Adara just glanced down at him. "The fight. Did I win?" he asked again. Suddenly understanding, Adara came to sit by Patroclus' head. She felt like her old self again, tending to someone was all that she knew how to do.

"I do not think anyone won that fight. Both men ended up on the ground," she said honestly. Grimacing in confusion, Patroclus opened his eyes to look at her with an icy blue glare.

"Both of us?"

"Achilles knocked Aeson to the ground. I would imagine his jaw is swollen shut by now," she informed Patroclus, remembering that he had been indisposed during the fight. Smiling with satisfaction, Patroclus rolled onto this back to look at the ceiling.

"That means I won," he stated happily.

"How?" Adara couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Achilles entered the fight on my side. Since he knocked out Aeson and no one was able to take him out, than I win." Adara still felt confused over the ruling, but she smiled down at him.

"Well, even if you did win, you lost a lot of blood during the fight. It is probably best if you get some rest," she instructed him.

"Guess this means I get to sleep on the cot now," Patroclus said, laughing weakly and running a hand over the bandage on his face.

"Guess so," Adara said gently, smiling and the young man in spite of herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry, not too much action in this chapter but good character development. You really get to see what Briseis is like and see some different sides to Adara and Achilles. I hope you guys can see some relationships forming. Of course, feel free to let me know any of the three C's: Comments, Concerns, or Cravings! Thanks everyone!

Chapter 4

Achilles came at sundown as he had promised to change Patroclus' bandages. Already the skin underneath the odd mixture of herbs had returned to a less angry red stage and the stitches were not so swollen. Still wondering over how Achilles had learned to heal, she almost missed his next order.

"Briseis awoke a few hours ago. She is up deck with Actor and is awaiting you," Achilles said, still pressing leaves to Patroclus' forehead. "I will watch Patroclus for a little while. He should be ready to move by tomorrow."

Taking that as her cue to leave, Adara slipped silently out of the cramped room and scampered through the hammocks and up the ladder. _Briseis, I forgot you accompanied me on this ship_. Embarrassed, Adara rushed up the ladder and down the center aisle of the ship into the outstretched arms of her queen. Briseis held her tightly and Adara could still smell the perfume she wore from the castle. _Smells like home_. Releasing her after a few moments, the two women stared at each other, Briseis' green eyes boring into Adara's golden ones.

"I wondered what had happened to you," Briseis breathed out, relieved. Adara noticed that she still wore the old clothing of Lyrnessus; there was no blood to ruin her fabrics.

"Achilles had me watching over Patroclus. There was a fight and he was hurt. Oh Briseis it was horrible. These men…" she whispered, attempting to explain the terrible things that had happened.

"You have spoken with Achilles?" Briseis asked, her eyes widening in surprise. Adara scrunched her brow up in confusion. _Why do you care?_

"Yes, my lady. It was he who explained to me the fight," Adara replied. She watched as Briseis' cheeks grew warm, her green eyes sparkling and her hands gripped her upper arms tighter. _Why is she so excited about words from Achilles? He is a brute, a monster, a confusing one at that, but still a monster._

"I think him to be ever so handsome, Adara. Do you not?" Briseis chimed, her eyes glazed over as she thought about the great warrior. Surprised by the comment, Adara shrugged, but her mind was buzzing.

Memories floated back to her of nights where the queen had sent Adara away from her bed chambers. Often it was after feasts when the king was in a drunken stupor or he had found himself a mistress to pass his time.

"Stay at the end of the hall, Adara," the Queen would instruct her. "Shout if anyone attempts to come down here. Do not let them pass if you can help it. Tell them I am extremely sick and no one is to go near me." And then she would scamper down the hall towing a tall, handsome man behind her.

These nights had become more frequent the longer her marriage stretched out. Adara knew that Briseis had never been happy with Mynes, but it revolted her the way she took so many men behind the king's back.

Returning to the present, Adara recognized the all too familiar blush on the queens face and shook her head at her.

"These men are dangerous your majesty," Adara warned, remembering the way Achilles had struck Aeson to the ground with one simple blow. Briseis laughed and spun the girl in a circle, her beautiful black hair flying out behind her and her green eyes sparkling.

"Do not worry, my dear Adara. I know that these men are not to be trifled with. I was simply stating that he is beautiful." Adara nodded in consent and then silence fell for a moment before Briseis spoke again. "I am hungry, Adara." She stated at her handmaiden expectantly as if the girl could produce food from under the minimal fabrics of her new clothes. Nodding, Adara glanced around her, eyes falling upon the platform just a few steps away from them.

He was shorter than several of the men Adara had met or seen with typical black hair and dark skin and warm brown eyes. What he lacked in height he made up for in bulk with bulging muscles and thick limbs. He glanced at the two women from time to time and when he saw Adara looking at him, he gave her a small toothless smile. _This must be Actor, the man Achilles entrusted to look over Briseis_ she realized. Summoning her courage, she approached the man. Giving him a small curtsy, she spoke.

"Are you Actor?" she asked so quietly, the man had to lean forward to hear her. The man laughed at her shyness, a true smile breaking out across his face.

"Yes, I am. How can I be of service?" he asked happily, his voice deep but warm.

"My lady has not eaten since boarding the ship and asks the she might have some food," Adara asked, her eyes carefully examining the boards in the floor so that she would not have to look at the soldier.

"Well certainly your lady may have some food. Do you not desire food yourself?" He asked, he smile still broad but his eyes curious. Adara allowed herself to cast him one quick glance as he addressed her directly, her heart thudding with nervousness.

"I am only permitted to eat after Queen Briseis has taken her share. Until then, I desire nothing," Adara answered smoothly, reciting the answer that she was taught to give. To her surprise, Actor glared at the Queen for a moment before turning to look at her.

"You should realize soon, Adara," she jumped as he spoke her name. _Do they all know who we are?_ "That you and your Queen are no longer different, but equal. She will not be treated like a Queen and you should stop acting as if she is above you, because no one will treat her that way. While you stay with the Myrmidons, you two are equal."

"I would never raise myself to the level of, her Majesty, nor should she lower herself to mine. As long as I live, she shall always be my Queen whether you treat her as such or not," Adara said quietly but firmly. Actor got to his feet, the curiosity in his eyes more pronounced than ever before.

"You are loyal, a trait that Achilles himself prizes above all others. I suggest though that your reconsider your loyalties. You are in new hands now, Adara," he finished. Then calling to one of the men, Actor commanded that the man bring enough food for three. Seeing that their conversation was over, Adara returned to Briseis' side.

The food arrived quickly. It was a simple meal consisting of dried fruits and meats with a wineskin to share between the two of them; Actor ate separately from them. Briseis chattered away as they ate, happy to let Adara sit in silence and listen.

"You passed out quiet quickly and Achilles carried you to the ships. You are quite lucky in truth, Adara. You did not see the city. They burned it. There were bodies everywhere, mostly men thank goodness. It was awful," she said, but her tone said otherwise. Adara knew she had never liked Lyrnessus, but how could she be happy over the destruction of her own city? Her people had died trying to protect her. _Lyrnessus deserves a better Queen than this one_.

"I fainted right after the ships left port. It smelled so like blood I couldn't stand it. I think that young blond soldier took me downstairs," Briseis chimed, waving her hand as if he was only a second thought. "I awoke just a few hours ago in this tiny room. It smelled terrible too, just like blood." _Just like Achilles_ Adara mused. "I sat down there for little while until Achilles came and got me and took me up here," Briseis said, her eyes glowing as she mentioned the great warrior's name. "But he didn't say anything to me. He left me here with Actor and then went below deck. You came up moments later," she finished. "What happened to you while I was asleep, I see you got new clothing."

"I awoke much earlier than you and was taken upstairs to meet Achilles." At this Briseis gave a disgruntled little humph as if angry she did not receive the same treatment. "Then I was offered new garb. My dress from home was covered in blood from Mal-" her voice broke and she could not finish the name. True realization of what had happened hit her as she spoke and she felt her will crumble. _He is gone_. Numbly she sat there, staring blankly around her but not seeing anything. Adara felt Briseis take her hand and give her a squeeze but she did nothing to return the gesture.

"I did not see him fall, but I heard you ask for his burial. You are a good person, Adara. I am sorry you had to see that," Briseis murmured, her voice soothing and calm.

"They buried him. They buried everyone," Adara said, her golden eyes brimming with tears. _I should have been there. I should have been the one to lay coins on his eyes and to light the fire. _Bitterness and longing swelled within her and silence fell. For once Briseis did not try and break it. Adara realized with a rush of sadness that her Queen did not mourn the death of Mynes. _She is most likely happy that she is gone._ Sending a silent prayer to the gods on Briseis' behalf, Adara wiped the tears from her eyes and gave her Lady a watery smile.

At that moment there was a bang and the trap door flew open and Achilles exited from the interior of the ship. Adara noticed out of the corner of her eye how Briseis sat up straighter and ran her fingers through her dark hair. _Cannot even muster in herself the ability to miss her husband._ Achilles approached them, nodding to several of his men on the way. It was clear to Adara that he was loved by the Myrmidons, even idolized.

Stopping in front of them, Achilles bowed to Briseis who smiled back at him, and then to her surprise, he turned to address her.

"I need your assistance tending to Patroclus," he said, and before she could answer he turned and made his way back down the ship clearly expecting her to follow. Glancing down at Briseis to apologize for her unexpected departure, she was met by an icy glare. The warmth that had been in her Queen's eyes only moments before was gone.

"You best go," Briseis said coldly. Unsure of what she had done, Adara nodded and curtseyed to Briseis before turning to follow Achilles down into the ship. He led her into the small room where she had awoken that morning. Patroclus was awake and sitting up, leaning against the wall. Already his face did not seem so ashen and some of his usual sparkle had returned to his eyes. _Do I already know him so well to recognize these things?_

"Achilles, I told you I am fine," Patroclus said as they entered.

"I know, but I want someone here in case you need something. You do not need to be up and moving until tomorrow," the great warrior said calmly. Patroclus did not argue. Turning to Adara, he gave his instructions. "Do not let him leave. If you need anything, ask for me or Actor." Then he left, bringing a heaviness as soon as he exited the room.

Adara slowly turned away from the door and sat on the floor beside the cot where she had watched over his sleeping form earlier. The young warrior watched her move, amusement etched across his face.

"You are different from the other women we have brought back to Troy with us," Patroclus concluded, breaking the silence.

"What do you mean?"

"You are not afraid of us," he said simply. Adara laughed in spite of herself.

"On the contrary, Patroclus. I have never been so scared in my life."

"Then you are better at controlling your emotions. One girl attempted to jump overboard and swim back to shore." Adara felt her face grow red at the comment and Patroclus quickly explained. "We saved her of course and she is at Troy with us now. She fears us no longer, I think." She nodded absentmindedly.

"All my life I have been trained to not have emotions—to suppress them. The handmaiden of the Queen cannot ever put her own desires over those of her charge. I am afraid, most certainly, but I have been taught so that you would never know."

"Achilles thinks you brave," Patroclus mused. Adara felt her eyes widen in shock.

"He is mistaken."

"No, I do not think he is. You do not give yourself enough credit, Adara," he murmured gently. Then changing the subject, he asked; "what is your Queen like?"

"Briseis?" Adara did not know how to answer the question. What she thought was not appropriate to say and so she paused for a moment before answering. "She is like most other Queens I would think. She is kind and keeps mostly to herself. She does not participate often in the matters of state or even the castle, but she loves to feast and is obviously beautiful." _She is also disloyal and self concerned and often jealous. She cannot take care of herself or see past her own beauty, but at least she is kind._

"Yes, she certainly is beautiful," Patroclus agreed. Silence fell and Adara felt the rocking of the ship threaten to send her to sleep. After some time, she looked up to see that Patroclus had fallen asleep against the wall. Unsure of whether Achilles wanted her to stay awake and watch him or if she was allowed to go to sleep, Adara resolutely made up her mind to stay awake and watch him.

For the first time all day, Adara felt free to think. Her mind wandered back to Lyrnessus for a moment. She remembered Briseis' words; _you did not see the city. They burned it. There were bodies everywhere, mostly men thank goodness._ Images of fire raking across her beloved home filled her mind and Adara had to focus herself to rid herself of such images. Her only consolation was the knowledge that those killed had been buried.

_Why had they buried the men? Surely it would have saved them more time to leave them for the crows?_ Adara had never met such strange people. One moment they were relishing in a fight and in the next healing and mourning people. Achilles was the strangest of all. Even in Lyrnessus rumors of his greatness had reached them. They said he was the son of a goddess; the greatest of all men. They said he could not be defeated and that only fools challenged him on the battlefield. _Now that I have seen him, I know it to be true. He hides his fury behind kindness, but it is still there_.

Her thoughts next traveled to the boy asleep in front of her. Although obviously the closest to Achilles, he seemed the least like him. There was nothing cruel in his nature and the smell of blood that seemed to haunt Achilles was absent with Patroclus. Although she had first assumed him to be around her age, it was clear now that he was older than twenty summers as she was. _Maybe twenty and five or twenty and four?_ He did not use kindness as a mask as she assumed Achilles did. _He is kind; I would not think him a soldier if I had not seen him fight._

Suddenly the door beside her opened and Achilles walked in, his movements slow and deliberate. Clearly he did not want to wake Patroclus. Turning to look at him, she saw his surprise when he saw her awake.

"Adara, I would have thought you asleep," he whispered. "You can come with me. We should leave Patroclus to rest in quiet. The men have set a cot up on deck for you to sleep on." Getting to her feet, Adara silently followed Achilles out of the room, giving Patroclus one last glance before shutting the door behind her.

The moon hung high in the sky and upon seeing it, Adara realized how tired she was. Her muscled ached and her mind felt dull with all the things she had seen and heard that day. The deck was empty except for two men who were clearly there to make sure the ship stayed on course. Achilles nodded to them as he led her to the rear platform and pointed to a cot and a blanket which had clearly been set there for her.

"How is Patroclus? Does he look alright?" The warrior asked. His tone sounded casual, but she could hear the anxiety behind his words.

"He seems fine to me. Patroclus is very tough and whatever you have put of his face seems to have helped him greatly. Are you okay?" Adara asked, glancing at the cuts on his arm. Achilles looked down at his arm as if seeing the open wound for the first time.

"Of course. It's not so bad," he replied, shrugging at her as if to prove that it did not bother him.

"Would you like me to wrap it? I cannot promise it will be as good as if you did it but it might stop the bleeding." Adara hated the open wound; it made her feel sick.

"No, I do not want it wrapped. It must heal on its own."

"If you do not mind my asking, who gave it to you?"

"Mynes, before he died." This news was a surprise to Adara, she had never once seen the king lift a sword or even wear on before. _Surely Achilles could have protected himself against such a mediocre warrior?_ Seeing he surprise, Achilles continued.

"I allow any king I fight to land a blow when we fight to the death. I want them to die with as much honor as possible," he said, glancing down at the cut again.

"Is that not risky?"

"No, I have fought my whole life. I know which strokes will cut of limbs and which will cut and bruise." Adara stared at Achilles in amazement. He allowed himself to be hurt so that his opponent could die with honor?_ He is insane_ Adara concluded. Glancing down at his chest, she saw that he was covered by scars.

"Did kings give you all of those scars?" she asked weakly, realizing just how many men he had killed.

"Some, but some are from battles and other from accidents when I was young. You do not need to worry about my wound, I will be fine."

"I am sure you will be."

"You should get some rest, Adara. We will reach Troy tomorrow afternoon."


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! So I will be going out of town for three to four days starting tomorrow and without my computer! I hate to leave you guys behind but it is what it is! I hope you like the next installment of "The Handmaiden". Briseis is really starting to get on my nerves, What about you guys? So I don't even know if anyone has been following this, but thanks so much to all who have read! It means the world to me. Feel free to review (it is much appreciated) and happy reading!

I don't own any of these characters. They all belong to Homer except for Adara but you can feel free to use her:)

Chapter 5

Adara woke early in the morning to the first sound of feet stomping on the deck. Sitting up groggily, she felt a trickle of cool air brush past her cheek and all at once remembered where she was. Glancing around her, Adara found herself alone on the stern platform; her cot had slid back into the farthest corner of the ship.

Casting her golden eyes over the ship, Adara saw Achilles approaching her with a small white bundle clasped in his hands. _Of course he is up this early. I would be not be surprised if I learned that he never slept._ Achilles leapt up onto the platform and came to a halt in front of her. Already she noticed that his wound had begun to heal and that it no longer ran crimson with fresh blood.

"I have food for you," he said, lifting up the bundle in his hand which Adara recognized as a kitchen cloth.

"Thank you." Then, too her surprise and horror, Achilles sat down on the cot next to her and placed the food between them, unfolding it to reveal grapes and cheeses.

They said nothing as they ate, Adara locking her eyes firmly on the black sails that billowed with strong morning winds. However, she couldn't help but notice that every so often Achilles' gaze would fall on her, his summer blue eyes scanning her before returning to his food. _What does he want with me?_ Never before had Adara been more confused by one person. _One moment he is gentle and kind and the next he is a strong leader and the next a furious warrior_. _He has so many faces I wonder how he keeps them straight._

"You hate me, do you not?" Achilles asked, his voice dull as if he was reading from a scroll. Taken aback by the question, Adara turned to look at Achilles for the first time and was once again astounded by his beauty. His chest was bare revealing a toned stomach and arms and battle worn skin. Blond hair fluttered in the wind like golden threads and his blue eyes were so stunning Adara felt as if they were piercing her skin. His gaze was full of sadness, causing Adara's mind to buzz as she attempted to figure out what she had done.

"My lord, I have only known you for a day. I neither hate your nor love you."

"Then you shall hate me soon enough. When we reach Troy and you see what I am and what I do. Then you will hate me."

"I know who you are, Achilles. You are the fleet footed warrior of Greece who even in Lyrnessus we heard rumors of," Adara said. _Why is he asking me these things?_ "I know that you are the most powerful of all the men that walk this earth and that you are the son of a goddess. But during my time with you, you have shown me nothing but kindness. I will not judge you until the day you harm me."

"Have I not already hurt you? I destroyed your homeland." Adara felt her breath die in her throat and her chest tighten.

"You followed orders. Agamemnon destroyed my home."

"I killed your king."

"Do you ask for me to hate you, Achilles?" Adara demanded.

"No, I only attempt to know why you do not." His voice now hinted of curiosity and he leaned closer. Adara quickly looked away and Achilles stopped leaning in to her.

"Of all the men at Troy, I am hated the most. No man or women there loves me and all fear me. But you are different; you can look me, on occasion," he added with a chuckle. Smiling weakly Adara turned to gaze at him, admiring the way the light glistened in his eyes.

"Your men do not hate you, especially not Patroclus," she replied soothingly.

"Patroclus is a brother to me and I love him above all people, but he and my men fear me, it is just less than that of other men."

"You should not set me above all others for I fear you also," Adara said quietly. "But I fear you out of respect for what you have done and what you are capable of doing. One would be a fool not to fear you."

Suddenly there was a bang as the door above the ladder flew open and both Achilles and Adara turned to see Patroclus' blond head appear. He was grinning broadly as he made his way up onto the deck; his bandages were a crisp white which meant that his wound had not reopened. This realization lifted a small weight off of Adara's chest as she watched him walk down the aisle between the rowing benches.

Achilles got to his feet and turned to offer her a hand. Adara took it hesitantly and allowed him to pull her to her feet with more gentleness than she had thought possible. Letting go as soon as possible, Adara watched Patroclus approach, his usual smile spread across his face.

"I feel a new man, Achilles," he laughed, coming to stand beside his friend and giving him a hearty slap on the back.

"That is good, we shall reach Troy sooner than I expected. Midday at the latest."

"Yes, the gods have been with us," Patroclus chimed, his voice merry as if his face had not been slashed open only the day before. "We must remember to make a sacrifice to Poseidon when we return to Troy to thank him for this safe journey."

Abruptly Achilles' reply was cut short by a sweet voice.

"Adara," Briseis called, her raven colored hair appearing as she climbed the ladder. Adara saw Patroclus' eyes widen in shock and heard him whisper to Achilles.

"_This_ is the Queen of Lyrnessus?" He asked, however Adara heard no more because she had run and leapt off of the platform and into the waiting arms of her lady.

"I was looking for you below deck but you were nowhere to be found," Briseis said, a hint of discontent in her voice.

"I was unlucky enough to have to sleep on deck last night, my lady," Adara said with a quick bow of her head. Apparently satisfied with this response, Briseis continued, her voice business like.

"Why is it that I am the only person aboard this ship who is dressed differently? Even you now wear the garb of Greece," she said, casting her minimal clothing a scornful gaze.

"I do not know my lady. I was offered new clothes because my dress from Lyrnessus was soaked in blood," Adara offered. _Why does she care about the clothes? I would give anything to still be wearing my gown from home_.

"All the same, I wish for you to request of Achilles that I be given new clothing." There was no question in her voice, it was a command. Swallowing her fear, Adara curtsied to her Queen and then began to make her way over to Achilles and Patroclus. Achilles watched her movements with surprise but Patroclus was still gazing at Briseis. She wished he would look at her; his smile often helped her to relax when Achilles was around.

Finally coming to a halt in front of them, Adara let out a small sigh and then addressed them. It did not feel right making requests of them when they had already spared Briseis' and her own lives.

"My lady as asked me to request of you new clothing more similar to that of the Greeks," Adara whispered, Achilles eyes alighting with amusement as she made her request.

"And is your lady not satisfied with the clothing she wears?" He asked.

"She does not appreciate being singled out," Adara replied snappily. _Really this is all so silly. It is just clothes_ Adara thought, exasperated.

"Call your Queen up here so that I might have a word with her," Achilles commanded. Glad that she would no longer have to participate in this conversation, Adara turned and beckoned to Briseis who came eagerly, her eyes glowing and her cheeks flushed. She came to a halt beside Adara, completely ignoring her handmaiden and eying the two warriors greedily. _Her husband is not yet cold in his grave and all she can do is think of other men_. Adara glared at her Queen. As much as she loved Briseis, the she was also angry about the way she had brushed aside her husband's death as if it had not happened and they were not slaves.

"I hear that you are dissatisfied," Achilles said calmly, but Adara heard the anger beneath his words. To her annoyance, she saw Briseis' already large chest swell with pride as he addressed her; Patroclus stood off to the side examining the Queen.

"I only ask that I be given new clothes so that I might not stand out as different," she asked sweetly.

"You only _ask?_" Achilles murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Might I remind you that I have already given you your life, Queen of Lyrnessus. I do not believe you are in a position to ask things of me." There was a deadly chill to his words and Adara saw the blush fade from Briseis' cheeks although the sparkle still remained in her green eyes.

"Achilles, it is only clothing—" Patroclus began but Achilles cut him short.

"You know as well as I that I must present her to Agamemnon. He will not accept her if she is dressed as a Greek. That is why you must remain in these clothes," Achilles said, turning back to Briseis. Nodding her head she thanked him.

"Adara, take your Queen below deck," the great warrior commanded. Nodding her head to him, Adara took Briseis' hand and firmly led her down into the ship and into Achilles' room. _She just had to ask._ For some reason, Adara felt her temper rising and it hadn't help that Patroclus had tried to defend Briseis' actions. _She is a selfish pig, surely even he can see that?_

Achilles' room was the same size as Patroclus' and was curved by the bend in the ship. The cot too up half of the space and since Briseis immediately laid herself out on it Adara was forced to wedge herself between two suits of armor.

They sat in silence for hours and Briseis finally fell asleep. Adara listened to the waves as they crashed against the boat and allowed the gentle rocking of the sea lull her into a stupor. However, she was jerked into awareness when the sound of fifty men grunting in unison echoed from above her. Waiting just a moment, the sound came again and then again, perfectly on beat. _The men are rowing_ Adara realized. The sounds of waves breaking on a shore became more apparent, and in the darkness of the ship she wondered what the Trojan beaches looked like.

Suddenly the ship gave a great shudder as it hit the beach and slid up onto the sand. Calls and shouts came from above but she could not understand them through the wooden deck. Splashes beside the ship alerted her that men were jumping off the ship. Adara waited in an impatient silence for someone to come retrieve her and the sleeping Briseis.

What felt like an hour later, although she could not be certain because the darkness of the interior of the ship seemed to play tricks with her mind, Adara heard a shuffling outside and Achilles opened the door to his room.

"Come with me," he commanded, the sound of his voice waking Briseis. He did not bother to glance at the Queen, however, and instead offered Adara his hand in order to help her to her feet. She let go immediately, feeling Briseis' angry glare on her back and exited the room before she could say anything to her.

"Patroclus is waiting for you on the deck. He will escort you to my camp. I will be presenting Lady Briseis to King Agamemnon," Achilles explained. Bowing her head to him, Adara turned and scurried away from the great warrior afraid that he would speak to her again.

Patroclus was indeed waiting for her at the top of the stairs, his young faced stretched into a wide smile. As she reached the top of the ladder, the world went white for a moment; she was blinded by  
sunlight. However, as her eyes adjusted, a magnificent sight came into view.

The beaches of Troy were bigger than any she had ever seen at Lyrnessus. They stretched on until the horizon and spread at least half a mile wide. But the most astounding sight was the numerous amount of tents. Black, red, gold, blue, and brown tents dotted the sand as far as Adara's eyes could see. The campsite was alive with thousands of men who appeared so small Adara pictured them as ants. Still hundreds more ships were pulled up onto the sand, even their decks covered in yet more tents.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Patroclus said happily; he was watching her survey the shores. Adara nodded weakly and turned to look at him. He only smiled in return and led her to the side of the ship.

"Now I'm going to get off first and once I've reached the shore you can jump down and I will catch you. I promise it isn't that far of a jump," he said, swinging his legs over the rail. And before she could protest, Patroclus had slipped off the side and landed with a dull thud in the sand.

Swinging her legs over as she had seen Patroclus do, Adara let out a deep breath, closed her eyes and pushed off. She flew through the air for what felt like minutes but what in reality was less that a second before Patroclus caught her. His hands caught her at her waist; they were gentle but strong and had no trouble supporting her tiny frame as he lowered her to the burning sand. Smiling at her once more, Adara felt herself relax before he turned and began to lead her through the tents.

The sheer number of people and tents she passes was hard for her to wrap her mind around. The beach was laid out randomly. Clearly it had been first come first serve when the Greeks had set up their tents almost ten years ago. _And to think, one man is in charge of all of this_. Adara pictured Agamemnon a great fat man with a baby face and a mouth forever turned down in a frown.

As they made their way through the tents, Patroclus was hugged and called at and clapped on the back by what felt like half the men they passed. He smiled and laughed with all of them, calling out to several and stopping to talk with a few. Adara received plenty of attention herself although not in the positive way Patroclus did.

Several of the men tried to grab her as she walked by, calling out terrible things like "Trojan whore" or "slave" as she walked by. One man was so drunk he had the nerve to start following her throughout the camp. Patroclus became so vexed he turned and punched the man, threatening to set Achilles lose on him. Then turning back to Adara, he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and continued leading her through the maze of tents.

"I know what they say seems horrible, but if you were not wearing Achilles' blue I promise it would be much worse," he said comfortingly, giving her another generous smile. Adara could not help but relax under his supportive touch and kind words and she allowed herself to be led through the camp with no trouble.

The Myrmidon's tents were the last structures on the right end of the beach. They were all made of black leather with wooden supports and they were fortunate enough to have shade due to a small copse of trees.

Patroclus halted outside of the largest tent and dropped his arm from her shoulders.

"This is Achilles tent," he said, pointing to the largest one. "The rest of the Myrmidons sleep in those," he continued, pointing to several black tents off to the left, "and the women sleep in that one," he finished, pointing to the smallest tent whose corner was just visible around Achilles personal tent.

"Achilles has asked that you await him in his own tent so that he might explain the rules of camp to you," Patroclus offered. "I am sure he will be with you shortly." Adara glanced up at the young warrior, noting with a small shock that he had a mischievous glint in his ocean blue eyes.

Suddenly there was a shout and Patroclus heard his name called. Apologizing for having to leave so quickly, he ushered Adara to the entrance of the tent. Then turning on his heels he walked off, leaving her alone on the Trojan Beaches.

Mustering all the of the courage she had, Adara walked forward in the sand and pushed aside the thin strips of leather that served as a door. The inside was dark just like the interior of the ship, but it smelled fresher and was much cooler than the exterior. Minimal amounts of light spilled in through a round hole in the center and through the doorway, providing enough light for Adara to make out a few piece of furniture. Immediately to her left was a wash basin with cool, clear water in it. Continuing her gaze around the perimeter of the circular tent, Adara's eyes next fell on several cots that had been laid together and covered with all sorts of exotic furs to form a bed of sorts. Across from the entrance was a stand from which Achilles could hang his armor and finally a small table and two chairs were to her immediate right.

Uncertain of what to do, Adara stepped fully inside and let the flap fall closed behind her. She shuffled through the sand and sat down gingerly on the front of one of the chairs, resigning herself to await Achilles return.


	6. Chapter 6

**Whoop whoop I'm back from my New Years vaction. I hope everyone is doing well. Here is the next chapter to "The Handmaiden" and of course I own nothing except for some OCs. Hope you guys enjoy.**

Chapter 6

After Adara left, Achilles instructed Briseis out of his quarters. The raven haired queen moved quickly to follow his orders, her green eyes following him until he severed the connection by closing the door.

Breathing out a sigh of relief that she was gone, Achilles sat down on his bed and placed his head in his hands. He was tired, and not just from overwork. The wound on his left arm throbbed painfully and he had an unbearable headache. Although he had raided countless cities like Lyrnessus, he had never before felt so battered. _Maybe my time of…_ but Achilles pushed these thoughts away roughly and got to his feet.

Changing into his armor, he opened the door to the main belly of the ship. Briseis stood only a few feet from the door, her cheeks flushed and eyes glistening. As he walked past her, motioning that she follow, Achilles could not help but smell the oils she still bore from her kingdom. She was beautiful, but in a dark and sultry way. The glazed look he often saw her giving him, although frighteningly attractive, was also cold and he found himself doing his best to avoid her.

Unfortunately for him, however, it was his duty as Prince and leader of the Myrmidons to take Briseis to Agamemnon and present her as a spoil of war as proof of the sacking of Lyrnessus. Just thinking of his king made Achilles' blood burn in his veins. In all of Greece, there was not one man that he disliked more than Agamemnon. _If there is every a more selfish man upon this earth let the gods strike me down_ Achilles thought darkly. In all their years at Troy, Achilles had seen Agamemnon raise he sword only in salute to his dead comrades—never in battle. His loathing for the king of Mycenae had only grown as the years stretched on and Agamemnon's greed and laziness increased.

Achilles led the way up the ladder and onto the deck, swinging his legs over the rail and dropping to the sand without so much as looking at his young charge. He did not offer to catch her.

The sand was warm under his feet and the now common scents of blood and sweat filled the air. Achilles smiled at a few men as they moved through the tents and raised his hand to fewer. He noticed with a slight smirk that most of the foot soldiers scampered out of the way when he came through, diving into tents or down other roads so they did not have to cross him. Achilles knew his reputation at the camp: he was the most feared man to walk the beaches of Troy. Of course he had never spoken out or struck any of his fellow Achaeans, but they still feared him as if they were mice and he was a lion.

Turning right to pass through a cluster of brown tents, Achilles stopped in front of a man sitting out front. His dark hair curled close to his head and his skin was tanned from spending so long in the sun. He wore a loose, gray tunic and sandals.

"Odysseus," Achilles said, clapping the king on the shoulder.

"Achilles, I see you've returned," he said gruffly, grabbing Achilles arm and pulling himself up. Catching sight of his wound, Odysseus' eyebrows shot up. "I also see that you were successful."

"Yes, the city did not take long to fall."

"If only the same could be said for Troy. I presume you are going to Agamemnon?" Odysseus asked, his dark eyes finally turning to Briseis. Although his expression never changed, Achilles saw the flash of surprise in his eyes.

"Yes, I must return his spoils of war and give an account of the supplies obtained."

"And what have we gained?" Odysseus fell in stride with Achilles and they continued on their way.

"Lots of livestock and grain, blankets, bronze for the forages, and weapons. The numbers are similar to those of all the other cities" Achilles listed dully.

"Good, we are in great need. I will send my men to help you unload all of your ships," Odysseus offered, his usual generosity glowing through his somber personality. Achilles smiled, a true smile, and clapped his friend on the back again in acceptance. Of all the Greek Kings, he respected Odysseus the most. He was cunning, and relied on his brain instead of the animal instincts of fight or flight like most soldiers. Although he lacked physical prowess like his own, he was a capable fighter in his own way and Achilles had grown very fond of him over the past nine years at Troy.

"The Trojans have not left their walls since the day before you left," Odysseus attempted to say casually, but Achilles could hear the strain in his voice.

"Then they should be attacking tomorrow. It is high time for another battle."

"We were lucky you were not away during an attack, Achilles. Last time that happened we were almost pushed back to the walls." Achilles sighed; they had reached Agamemnon's golden tents.

"I am not the Greek army and will not win this war for you just as Prince Hector is not the Trojan army. The Greeks would have been fine without me." But as Achilles said this, he knew it to be a lie. He had seen it himself when he had sat out one day to let a wound heal. The Achaeans could not win this war without him. They needed him. Attempting to ignore these gruesome thoughts, he turned to Briseis who had followed Odysseus and him silently through the camp.

"These are Agamemnon's tents," he said, nodding his head to the largest and clearly the most ornate tents on the beach.

"I'll be leaving you then Achilles. My men will be over at your camp momentarily to help you unload your ships," Odysseus said, waving over his shoulder as he began to trek away through the sand. Achilles called out his thanks after the King and then turned back to Briseis.

"You are not to speak unless spoken to. If you think I have a temper, you will soon learn that I am only in possession of half the fury he has," Achilles snapped. The girl didn't seem to be listening and was instead giving him a heated look. He felt his muscles contract with fury and for a moment he felt a strong her to slap her, but after several seconds he controlled himself and entered the tent without another word.

It was dark inside the tent and much cooler than the blazing heat outside. Achilles eyes adjusted quickly to the muted, golden light and he continued inside without a hesitation. As he walked, the floor became wooden under his feet and columns appeared on either side of him to hold up the ceiling. Glancing around him, he noted that guards stood between each column on either side. Smirking slightly, Achilles knew that Agamemnon only ever had this many soldiers in his tent when he came visiting. _Not that I couldn't handle them all_ he mused, winking at a particularly nervous looking young soldier.

He came to a halt before a small platform upon which sat a great man. By great, he did not mean imposing or handsome or even inspiring, but a great man in that he was massive. Agamemnon was easily his own height and twice his thickness, adorned in elaborate shawls and wraps and bearing a golden crown. Two women stood to either side of his wooden throne and fanned him, both their expressions sour with unhappiness.

As he bowed, Agamemnon cast his lazy gaze upon him, Achilles noting with satisfaction how fear burned in his pupils. The king sat up a little straighter, his hand coming to rest underneath his chin. For a moment the king sat in silence, glancing between Achilles to Briseis. Finally he spoke.

"I see you were successful."

"Yes," Achilles said curtly, coming to stand in a relaxed position and crossing his arms. It was his hope that this meeting would be over soon and he would be able to return to his tents quickly. In the back of his mind he wondered if Patroclus had given Adara his message.

Agamemnon began to speak again and for several minutes they discussed the battle, injuries, gains, and the overall details of the events and Lyrnessus. Although he did a very good job of appearing interested and well informed, Achilles knew that the King did not care for his battle stories. When at last the conversation seemed to be drawing to a close he introduced Briseis. Apparently this is what Agamemnon had been waiting on, for as her name was given Achilles saw the King's eyes flash.

"Briseis," he hummed throatily, his eyes wandering over her greedily. "You _are_ the Queen of Lyrnessus?"

"Yes, my lord," she said, giving a small curtsy. Achilles shifted positions, anxious to leave.

"I am sorry for your…loss," Agamemnon purred. "I hope that you find our beaches to your liking." To Achilles disgust, he saw Briseis looking the king in the eye, giving him a similar hooded gaze that he often fell prey to. After a few moments, the king finally looked away and dismissed Achilles, a rich smirk plastered across his face.

Achilles lost no time in leaving and grabbed Briseis by the arm and practically dragged her after him and out of the tent, ignoring the proper formalities in favor of leaving quickly. The moment they had exited the golden tent he dropped her arm but continued at his furious pace. Jogging to keep up, Briseis found her voice.

"Am I going to your tent now?" She asked, gathering her skirts so that she could move with enough agility to keep up with his pace.

"You will be going to the women's quarters."

"There are other women?" Briseis did not sound pleased about the news.

"Yes. All the queens from the cities I have captured and their handmaidens," Achilles snapped, taking a sharp turn and speeding down a row of dark blue tents. _To be rid of this woman. If only there was a man I could give her to that would insure she would not come back to me_. Achilles made several more turns, taking the most complicated root back to camp. He did not want Briseis finding her way back to Agamemnon's tent.

Although he had not appreciated the way Briseis doted on him, the fact still remained that she was his prize of war and she would remain that until he chose to give her away. Frowning with conviction, he turned one last time, his cluster of black tents coming into view.

"You will be staying in there," Achilles commanded, pointing to a small tent behind his own. Briseis nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Achilles had already turned on his heel and stomped away.

Stepping into the darkness of his own tent, Achilles immediately felt some of the tension he had been holding back leave him. Glancing around the room interior, his eyes finally landed on the small figure perched on the edge of one of his chairs. Feeling the corner of his mouth twitch with amusement at the stiffness with which she was sitting, Achilles moved through the sand until he was standing in front of her.

"Adara," he murmured, glancing down at the girl with honey colored hair. For a moment he saw her pause and then she looked up at him.

"My lord?" Her voice was quiet and calculating though he detected hints of curiosity and fear.

"You do not have to be so formal with me. Everyone here calls me Achilles, even the slaves," he said, moving away to his armor stand. He began to pull his breastplate off by unbuckling the straps and sliding it over his head.

"I am a handmaiden, I have been taught to treat my superiors with respect." Adara's voice barely reached him above the clash of his golden armor. When at last he was undressed he found one of his robes and slipped it on over his head. Turning back to gaze at Adara, Achilles felt a true smile alighting upon his face; throughout the duration of his changing Adara's eyes had remained firmly locked upon her hands in her lap.

"That is true, but here in Troy you are now my charge, and I am asking you to call me Achilles." He sat down in the chair next to hers and let himself sink into it, the throbbing in his arm returning.

"You are bleeding again, Achilles," Adara murmured, her golden eyes examining his left bicep with worry.

"I will be okay." He waved it off, but couldn't help but enjoy the attention he received from the girl.

"It will grow diseased if you do nothing about it."

"Can you wrap it?" He asked. Achilles did not think Adara liked blood, and one glance at the girl's ashen face confirmed it. _She just wants to cover up the wound so she doesn't have to look at it_.

"Yes, if you would like." Achilles paused for a moment before getting to his feet and going to find some old strips of cloth in a clay pot at the end of his bed. Returning to the chairs, he set them on the table and extended his arm so that she could wrap it.

Adara hesitated for a moment, her eyes jumping to his own for a moment before taking a strip of cloth between her nimble fingers. Getting to her feet she went over to the wash bowl and soaked the cloth with fresh water. Making her way back to the table, she began to dab around the opening of the cut so lightly he could barely feel where her hands touched his skin. Amused at how afraid she was to touch him, Achilles chuckled causing Adara's already pale face to become a stark white.

"You can't hurt me," he reassured her. Nodding, Adara returned to cleaning his wound, her movements more firm and sure of themselves. When at last the outside of the cut was clean, she balled the rag up in her hands and squeezed it over the wound so that water flowed down into the cut and washed away old, dried blood and dirt. Achilles was careful to control his face so as not to wince and scare the girl.

When his arm was dry Adara began to wrap the wound, pinching the cut closed with her fingers before spinning the white fabric around it tightly. When at last she was done, Adara stepped away quickly and went to wash her bloodied hands in the basin. Achilles ran his finger over the bandage absentmindedly, feeling how smooth it was and admiring her handiwork.

"Thank you. Where did you learn to do that?" He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Briseis has taken to many things in her life," Adara mumbled. "One of them being cooking, but cooking did not take to Briseis." And then flashing him a cheeky smile the young girl ducked through the door and disappeared.

It was several hours later after awaking from a nap that Achilles realized he never dismissed the girl, and only moments after that when he realized he didn't care she had disobeyed orders.


End file.
